Remaining Pieces
by Megalixir
Summary: There were such moments when all your memories flooding back at you and sometimes, only sometimes, you would smile. You realised that even now, there were fragments still worth remembering between that person and you. 30 kisses challenge, CrossRidley.
1. Contradictory Elements

**Disclaimer:** Radiata Stories and all of its characters, places, etc. are copyrighted by Squarenix et. al.

**A/N:** Err, I'm aware that Cross/Ridley is not everybody's favourite pairing. People out there hate Cross for good reasons, and I believe that I dislike him too to a certain extent -- or you can say it's a tough love ;). But, anyway, I think it would be fun to write something about them. After all, they _were_ engaged. I just hope it wouldn't do much damage to make Cross looks more, well...human? Please don't kill me for doing this (even if you do, I'll persistently continue to write from the afterlife, anyway). Reviews and constructive critics are loved :D

This is also written for 30 kisses challenge on LiveJournal

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**Contradictory Elements  
**_theme #4 our distance and that person, #26 if only I could make you mine_

It was picturesque; the sight of her standing in front of the casement, from where one could see the sun crept down through it, was alluring, like something that had sprung to life from a grandly made painting. He paused on his stride, thinking that he might ruin this view and this sense of serenity if he ever came closer. But, then again, beauty had never been his utmost fascination, and peace had never been his most gratified pleasure. Slowly, he walked and placed himself next to her by the window. She did not flinch then, paying him no heed even when he moved a step closer to her.

"You're such a disrespectful host, leaving your guests to entertain themselves at your own birthday party like that. Your father was on the brink of fainting when he realised that you'd gone," he said without meeting her in the eyes. Both of them, he thought knowingly, were avoiding eye contact. "Where have you been, by the way?"

She made a non-committal noise and did not reply. He, however, just shrugged at his unanswered question and continued talking.

"You're not being yourself lately."

He wondered if his voice sounded any different. The sentence that had just left his mouth was unnatural, even to his own ears. It was as though the words had come out from a faraway place, like the black, black depth of one's soul. She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes for a mere second before retreating her gaze back into some place distant beyond the window glass. A momentary silence engulfed them.

"Funny for you to say that. What would you know about me? For all I know you seem to know nothing except things which concern you and your well-being." Her voice finally broke in.

"True. But still I think I know enough to realise that something amiss is going on."

"Something amiss?"

"Don't you want to talk it all out? Our distance and that person, and some other things that you keep from everyone else?"

She moved her head slightly so that her eyes met the infinite darkness of his own. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar." His lips were now curling into a half-mocking smile, the unpleasant smile that she knew all too well. "Ridiculous, isn't it? How people waste their efforts for something that they knew they can't obtain. You are mine and nothing can change that, not you, not even me. Why wasting your attention for anything else—anyone else at all for that matter?" He almost laughed. God, he sounded like he was jealous. It was amusing, for there was no reason to be jealous because their relationship was definite. And whatever she could possibly feel should not concern him. Why should it matter? After all, she was just another complementary for his road to glory, a mere tool and nothing more.

She turned her head sharply and fixed her gaze upon him. The light in her eyes was laced with a blaze of cold rage.

"I'm not yours, Cross. Do watch your tongue."

"But you are. Even if you're not now, you will be."

She parted her lips to retaliate but then stopped halfway and looked away from him. The blaze of anger she had previously held in her eyes withered and manifested into something that crossed between defiance and submission. Because she knew, that in the end, it was true. In the end, it was inevitable.

The light of the setting sun kissed her entire being and her presence radiated. She was always beautiful in her own way. Bright, even at times when she was most powerless and fragile. Sometimes, in a moment like this, he would find himself yearning to keep her light close to lead his way through his own darkness.

And he was a selfish one. He would never get enough until he had everything under his grasp.

"If only I could make you mine." A murmur slipped from his tongue before he could accumulate any coherent thought. He shook his head at his own foolishness. He really should go now; it was dangerous for him to stay any longer. Because his lips and tongue would betray him, and one by one the unwanted words would be said.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing," he heaved. "I think I've bothered Your Exaltedness Lady Silverlake enough for now. I'm leaving so you can resume on whatever you were doing before I came."

"We're not done yet, Cross."

"Yes, we are." He waved a hand nonchalantly at her and walked away before she could voice her protest any further.

Outside, the sun had fallen away from its grace and went to its hiding place beneath the velvety layer of night sky.

- End –

19/03/06-- Last edited.


	2. Medical Abomination

**Disclaimer:** Radiata Stories and all of its characters, places, etc. are copyrighted by Squarenix et. al.  
**A/N:** Umm…well, this one is supposed to be a semi-crack fic, though I reckon that it's not, perhaps, all that funny. Thanks to all of you who have been reading. And for those who had spent their time typing reviews, your words have been most encouraging and are very much appreciated, thank you so much!

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**Medical Abomination  
**_Theme #3 jolt, #16. Invincible; unrivaled, #28 Wada Calcium CD3_

She hesitated at the entrance of the infirmary. Fingers wrapped tightly on the object she had bought on her way back to the castle, half expecting that it would suddenly grow feet and run away. It was frustrating, really. Why, in the name of Tottaus, should she be doing this? She wouldn't mind taking care of someone who happened to be injured, trying to save her while she had foolishly slipped from the stairs and taking the damage on her place. It was well and fine, as long as it wasn't _him_. Because this man, who was sprawled over the bed with one of his legs bandaged, always seemed to take pleasure from all of her awkward moments, knowing that the girl felt somehow indebted to him. And he would, every once in a while, intentionally insult her pride.

"Is that you, Ridley?" Oh, he noticed? She rolled her eyes. "Why are you just standing there? Come on in. By the way, I was going to write a report just before you arrived but the pen was on the table over there and the doctor said that I couldn't move my leg yet. Could you, please..."

"Of course," she replied tonelessly, snatching the pen from the said table (which she could have sworn that he could have reached it had he given more effort to stretch his arm) and handed it to Cross. Patient, she told herself. She shouldn't be miffed over something like this. The more she was annoyed, the more he would enjoy his little game.

"Thank you." He flashed her his infamous haughty smile to her disgust.

"Anyway," she started, the sooner she got this conversation over with was the better. "I bring you, er...well, you could call it a gift. You did save me and all, I think."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows in a sceptical way. He knew it had never been Ridley's way to suddenly shower people with presents, even when she owed them gratitude.

"Here." She thrust something small and cylinder-shaped into his hand as fast as she could, completely ignoring his look of utter mistrust. He observed his supposed 'gift' -- a plastic tube filled with some unidentified medicine (or worse, he predicted wryly), and frowned.

"Wada Calcium CD3," she announced. "A new formula of Calcium pills, or so I heard."

"Calcium?" He gaped dumbly, still disbelieving his fiancée's bad taste in gifts.

"Oh, please. Calcium is one of the alkaline, placed under Magnesium on the periodic table and is an essential constituent for your bones. It's also-"

"I know what Calcium is," he snapped, feeling a slight jolt of irritation. "Who in the world gave you the idea that I'd be needing this?"

She grinned inwardly, maybe with a little more effort and patience she could actually beat him at his own game. "As grateful as a goblin being taken for a bath, aren't you? It's about time you realise that your build is not invincible. You have broken bones, Cross. I think that it will help your fractured ankle to recover faster." _And to stop you from being such a pain_, she muttered under her breath.

"My body is fast to recover, even without the wretched Calcium on the first place. I don't need it."

She sighed, more dramatically than she had intended to do, and took the tube away from Cross' hand. "Some gentleman you are, throwing away something that other people gave you without any regard. Well, it's fine for me, though. I'll just tell your subordinates that their almighty Captain Cross of The Noire Mouton Brigade is happy to have his extra days in bed."

He let out a disdainful sniff before snatching back the object from her grasp. "Tch, fine! I'll devour those wretched pills. Happy, now?"

"Absolutely," Ridley flatly responded. She watched as he took the one of the pills and, with the help of a glass of water, swallowed it. But what occurred from there on was truly unexpected. Her eyes widened, surprised at the immediate reaction the supplement pill had on his body. She had never, in her life, seen people sent off into a sudden black-out as soon they consumed any medicine.

-

He woke up to find someone loitering about him.

"--ly awake. Geez, not that I'm worried or anything, but you seriously gave me a shock back there. I thought I had just killed you by accident or something."

His vision blurred, his head and chest gave a near-synchronised throb. He winced, trying to focus his sight at objects around him. Slowly, everything became apparent to his eyes. And the face that was hovering above him took his breath away. She was the most perfect masterpiece of beauty that God had ever made. Her face reflected some sort of grace and elegance he couldn't comprehend, with a pair of shining green eyes that were so deep and absorbing that he found himself lost in the realm they created. And her hair...her hair was golden, glimmering under the sunlight, which was filtering through the windows. He wanted, so much, to touch it and see it for himself if it was as soft as he--

"What's with you, Cross? Stop looking me like that, you're creeping me out."

Ah! Her voice rang clear and musical to his ears. "My fair lady," he said breathlessly.

"Excuse me?"

He took one of her hands; her skin was frighteningly soft, and he felt it burn under his grasp. "Lady Ridley, my fair...will you let me kiss you, just for once? I beg of you, make me yours and I shall be your sla--"

"AHHH! Get away from me!" She yanked her hand from his fervent grasp and ran for the door in haste as if her life depended on it, silently thanking the God that Cross had one fractured ankle.

She closed the door behind her and gulped, trying to recover from the shock and horror she had just experienced. Yet even then, she could still hear Cross clamouring his undying love for her from behind the door. She shuddered.

"I have to inform Morfinn," she breathed, "that his medicine doesn't work like he said it would."

- End -

19/03/06 -- Edited. Much thanks to Elysian Stars for the wonderful concrit.


	3. White Remembrance

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. Obviously.  
**A/N: **Phew. Passed the deadline! Erm…I'm not too sure about this one, but I do hope some people could still enjoy it. Please let me know what you think of it if you have the time; I'll greatly appreciate it :).

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**White Remembrance  
**_theme#11 gardenia_

_It was only a memory, a small recollection with parts fading away and distorted like a washed out painting that he sometimes recalled when sleep was hard to come by and the night was far too quiet. He was not one who would treasure memories and keep it safe inside his mind; he thought memories as frightening, cruel things that even the most beautiful of them could easily twist into a terrible one by loss or mistake. But some memories bounded to stay. Some memories kept him living the way he did._

--

Cross wished (and it was rare that he was actually wishing) that it had been one of those days in which the sky was murky with darkened clouds, portending the rain —a perfect cliché for the ongoing event. But it was a tepid summer afternoon, with a rich hue of golden and red above the town of Radiata, when he received the news of his mother's death.

It wasn't that much of a surprise for one who had such a frail body. He, however, sometimes found himself thinking that it was her who had been truly strong. She had been confined to a room less pleasing than the outer world for the longest time —the last time she had managed to go out, he remembered, was two weeks ago during his engagement with a girl from the renowned Silverlake family, whose given name he had even forgotten really (Ripley? Rinslet?)— and yet she would still offer him a smile and warm, welcoming hands that he often shoved away as of late, saying that a thirteen-year-old was not a child anymore, hence no need for her constant coddling.

And then he was here, standing in front of a place where she would eternally rest, six feet under the ground, while a priest from Olacion murmuring prayers in words he could hardly comprehend. Again, and to no avail, he wished that the sky would mourn on his stead, because Cross did _not_ cry. _By crying is admitting that you have weaknesses_. His father's teaching rang clear, resounding whenever he felt that strange, threatening lump in his throat and he had to force it back down with a swallow. A knight-to-be must not show weaknesses. Of course he had never had any, he assured himself, and he was not about to show any, not even now.

Soft sobbing and whispers droned in a deafening intensity; some mourned about how the Lady, someone who had been blessed with a warm and glowing kindness, had passed away in this kind of sad, miserable way, and some, perhaps, tattled about a husband and a son who didn't even shed tears upon her death. Cross paid them no heed. They could say whatever they wanted to say for all he cared. It irked him though, the way they offered him fake comforts and reassuring words; he would glare whenever this happened, giving them such intense stare until, one by one, they looked away from him.

But he took more willpower than he usually did, willing himself to wait until he was sure that everyone had left, except for a few people (one of them was his father, he noticed, who was talking to the rest of the group and wouldn't bring himself to care as to what his son was about to do). Slowly, hesitantly, he approached the handsomely carved tombstone in front of him and kneeled. Faint scent of gardenia—his mother's once favourite flower, white and delicate and perfect—pervaded the air as he pulled out a pouch filled with dried petals of the flower and put it on the ground. He remembered how she would sit down on a chair with a book on her lap and placed the similar looking pouch on a table beside her. _It's a calming fragrance,_ she had said, smiling softly.

Far and away someone sang a lullaby: gentle voice vibrated a familiar tune, entangled together with the wind and dissolved into thin air. He felt a shiver running down his spine.

It frightened him how clearly a memory could suddenly re-emerge and transform into something more realistic than mere illusion. Memories were strange things; they interlaced with one another, creating an endless tangle of web. And they would never stop coming once you remembered a fragment, because then your mind would try remembering more, picking up the shattered pieces to construct something entirely whole. Only that it would never be whole.

He swallowed, somehow that annoying lump in his throat had grown to suffocate him, and it was suddenly hard to maintain balance without him gripping hard on the tombstone. He clenched his jaws, keeping himself away from doing something completely stupid like, well, crying. Of course he couldn't let himself fall into such level of indignity. He was a strong person —he was sure of it, and would not break easily. To be stronger was the only possible option for him to grow from now on. He would thrive to be nothing but the one who was more powerful than anyone else. Yes, far more powerful.

_And it's a promise, mother._

He whispered it against her tombstone, engraved it within his soul, sealed it with a kiss.

"Why did you kiss the tombstone?"

Surprised, he automatically whirled around to see the person who dared to despoil his moment of sacred silence and found that girl from the Silverlake household (Rinslet, he decided) standing behind him, swaying foliages on a nearby tree leaving dark patterns dancing on her face.

"Obviously none of your concern," he retorted, irritated by the fact that he was caught in an embarrassing situation and that he had failed to notice her presence on his back to begin with.

The lines of her brows arched and she gave a little shrug. "I suppose," she said. "It's just that you're weird."

_She thinks I'm what! _

"You'd better watch your tongue, because I—"

"'Death cancels everything but truth; and strips a man of everything but virtue,'" she cut his exclamation though uncertainty caressed her face as the words fell from her tongue, fingers tucking strands of hair behind her ear.

"What was that?"

"Something I read from a book."

"That's not what I meant," he hissed, not liking the way she talked, because what was hidden beyond her undertone was the same poison, carefully veiled under comforting words. "Do you think telling me those kind of words will make you more superior than I am? Do you think I need to be pitied from someone like you?" There was certain harshness on his voice that often made people flinch. It was an obvious threat and a signal cast upon her in order to make her go away. This would always do the trick. Soon enough, she would look away and leave him be, just like that, like everyone else would do.

"Is making that kind of prejudice against other people's concern makes you any happier?" she asked back, round, brilliant eyes not wavering from his intense glare.

"That..." He stumbled at his words, at loss for ways to respond.

She was a strange one, definitely strange one. There was something in the way she calmly placed her eyes on him that he found disconcerting. It was almost as if she was reading every small pattern of his mind, predicting his movement, and made sure everything he throw would rebound on him. It was almost as if she could tear away his facade of fierceness and knock him off his feet, leaving him sprawled on the cold ground, completely defeated.

And this time, he was the one who looked away.

"Oh, forget it! It's not worth to be argued over, anyway."

Troublesome girl, he thought, fingers idly grazing trough the embossed alphabets on the tombstone. But maybe, just maybe, things would be more interesting this way.

He stood up from his kneeling position and the feeling of smug superiority crept back as he realised how small the girl was compared to him. "It's late, Rinslet, why don't you just go home or something?"

"Ridley," she corrected, obviously annoyed and slightly wide-eyed (after all, Cross' lack of common sense was indeed astounding).

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. He supposed he should apologise for being rude as to not remembering her name and all but then decided that he could care less. "Whatever, just go, you're bugging me here."

Ridley sighed, running a hand through her forehead and hair. "Sure, I'm sorry to have bugged you. You looked like you were going to cry back then. It would be very unbecoming if someone related to me crying in public, you see."

Cross, of course, didn't appreciate the comment. "I wasn't going to-- you take that back!"

"Feel free to wet the pillow in your room tonight, though, since no one will be there to watch."

"Why, you insolent little..."

"Well, I'll be leaving then, if you so wish," she said abruptly, turning her back, not taking any interest to issue another taunt or argument. Cross watched until her frame was out of sight, swallowed slowly by darkened depth of the night.

Suddenly, exhaustion washed over him and he sighed, giving the pouch he had put on the ground one last look —his last gift, last prayer for the loved one. Soon, he must leave, go back to his daily routine, and act like nothing had ever changed (but something would change, wouldn't it? Everything would never be the same). He walked away to go back to his place of residence. Still, there was lingering scent of gardenia he could smell —a fragrance that brought back memories and reminded him of unfulfilled promise.

-End of 3rd Kiss-


End file.
